The Songs No One Else Hears
by Cap10
Summary: People tend to dance to the rhythms of their own drums, tapping their toes to songs no one else can hear. Nations, states, provinces, and territories are not immune to the music in their heads. Today's story-Two Steps...Most of the US states made assumptions about California, but with a GDP as large as his, California felt he had the right to be a bit eccentric.
1. Tickling The Ivories: America

_**Author's Note**_ _\- The seeds for The Songs No One Else Hears were planted some time ago when I was writing 50 Apps That Every State Needs. One of the stories was about Spotify and involved America watching to what his states were currently streaming and making assumptions about their day. This story caused me to file away little notes about the musical history of different places on the globe or make note of songs that seemed to particularly fit the personality of different personifications. In the end I did a lot more research then I could have ever planed into writing this series of shorts. Hopefully you will enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it for you._

 _ **Disclaimer**_ _-Even after writing Hetalia stories for a couple years I still do not own it, though I do find it extremely entertaining when my take on the States, Provinces, and Territories pop up in other peoples work. ;)_

 _ **Written to the tune of Maple Leaf Rag, Fig Leaf Rag, The Entertainer, Magnetic Rag, and Kitten on the Keys.**_

* * *

 **Tickling the Ivories**

* * *

America had taken his first piano lesson in the December 1883 from a little old lady who lived three blocks from the White House, and he had taken to it like a duck to water. At first he played the classics, the ones by European composers that everyone was expected to be part of every pianist portfolio. He could play Beethoven and Bach with the best of them, but the more he played the more dissatisfied he felt with the Old World's approach to music.

It wasn't until the world's fair of 1893 that the nation found a form of music that he could truly call his own. The young African American composer on the stage pounded out a song called the Maple Leaf rang to a delighted audience. It was upbeat and complex with a steady rhythm that just begged the listener to get up and dance. The classics be damned, that night America realized that ragtime was the type of music he really wanted to be playing.

America wasn't exactly sure how he managed to convince Scott Joplin, the King of Ragtime Writers, to let him study at his knee. It was most defiantly not culturally acceptable. Listening to a black musician was one thing, but interacting outside of the public space of the music hall was something that polite society frond upon. America didn't care though. He felt that people were people no matter what color their skin (even if he had failed to convince several of his states about that), and Scott Joplin was a remarkable person.

Through the first decade of 20th century ragtime thrived in the dance halls and high society parties of America, but like any fad its popularity began to fade. By the mid 1910's it became clear that the musical style's patron saint was heading on a downward spiral. The last time that America saw Scott Joplin alive he was in 1913. One look into the composer's eyes and you knew he was fighting against time. He was just finishing one last masterpiece, the uncharacteristically mournful Magnetic Rag. The King of Ragtime Writers would not write again. The effects of syphilis would drag the composer into a downward dementia and insanity. He died in 1917 at the age of 49 and laid to rest in an unmarked grave.

By that point the country did have much time to morn its lost composer. The Great War in Europe was threatening to pull America into the fight. The rest of 1917 and 1918 would bring nothing but sorrow to the North American continent. Between the deaths in the trenches due to gas, cold, and guns and the horrendous deaths at home from the Spanish Flu, many people wanted to turn their back on everything that had happened before the war. The memory of what they had lost was to strong. So the faced forward and partied through the roaring twenties to the sounds of jazz.

Yet even though the nation tried to erase part of its musical past, ragtime refused to be forgotten. Too many people had sheet music hiding in their piano seats, too many figures remembered the quick sequence of notes that use to make the crowd tap their feet along with the melody. By the time WWII arrived the nation was once again ready for upbeat piano rags to help them forget their worries for a dance or two. While ragtime would never reach return to being the music the entire nation listened to, it would never disappear from the national stage again.

Today America didn't give a second thought about the fact that after a hard day of paperwork when his mind was exhausted but his body desperately bored he would sit down at the well-loved piano in the hall and tickle the ivories for a while. It was a great way to blow off steam and besides he had to keep his fingers in practice. For even though the rest of the world thought of Austria the master of the instrument, that was only because they hadn't heard America play 'Kitten on the Keys'.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note-**_ _Ragtime evolved from African American music subculture, but became main stream in the late 19_ _th_ _century. Reaching its peak popularity between 1895 and 1918 the new style of music began to have a lasting worldwide influence on the musical scene. Today ragtime time is not only played in the United States alongside the Jazz and Blues, but it has become part of the musical heritage of Sweden, France, and Russia._

 _ **End Note**_ _\- Well I hope that you enjoyed the first chapter of The Songs No One Else Hears. If you have a particular country, state, province or territory that you would like to see pop up in your inbox please leave me an IM or a review with your suggestion and then be sure to subscribe to this story so you know when the next instalment comes through. The same goes for a particular type of music. If something comes to mind let me know and I will research its history._

 _ **Next Chapter-**_ The Music of the Early Morning- _It is sometimes difficult for look beyond New York's stern look and red pen. What they don't realize is that he sings just as loud as anyone else in the shower._


	2. The Music of the Early Morning: New York

_**Author's Note**_ _\- So for the first time in months I have finally had a chance to sit down and transcribe the little stories that I have been collecting in my spare notebooks. As the shorts for this story collection was the most coherent I am delighted to share another one of them today. But before we get to New York's tale I need to give Irenka39 a quick shout out. Thank you for leaving this stories first review. Also thank you to everyone who added this story to their favorites and/or alerts. Hopefully this story collection will be a fun journey for all of us._

 _ **Disclaimer**_ _\- I do not own Hetaila and I have a hearing disorder so I can totally sympathies with New York even if I don't particularly enjoy his favorite type of music._

 _ **Written to the tune of Seasons of Love, Tomorrow, For the Good, King of New York, Seize the Day, and Singing in the Rain.**_

* * *

 **The Music of the Early Morning**

* * *

As the accountant who mastered minded the finances for America and the various states (along with a couple of America's closest allies), most people in his live considered New York to be a particularly shrewd individual whose ire should be avoided. What they failed to realize was that New York was far more complex than a numbers man and he did a whole lot more than leave trails of red ink on his siblings' budgets. For what New York really craved was to leave his penthouse office behind and walk out onto one of the stages of Broadway…to sing and to dance and to bask in the applause of the audience.

There was only one big problem with New York's dream. The man couldn't carry a tune to save his life, but he could tell you that there was 525,600 minutes in year or how various people had touched his life for the better. He could sing about how tomorrow would be better than today or how being famous for a day could get you drunk faster than beer. Still he couldn't do any of that in a way that wouldn't cause the neighborhood dogs to start howling.

He had long given up trying out for Broadway plays, too many painful rejections. He turned his full attention to the numbers and the figures, the statistics and the calculations that were his bread and butter. New York was good with numbers, but even though he had a voice that would only be valued in the silent movies, that would not stop him from singing in the shelter of his own home.

So, when his alarm rang first thing in the morning New York wake with a song…a cease the day or oh what a beautiful morning…on his lips. And every morning the hum that thrummed his chest would blossom into full blown song because for five long minutes as the water from the shower pounded his shoulders he could sing in the rain at the top of his lungs and no one would be the wiser.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note**_ _\- Show tunes are defined as popular music that has been written to further the narrative of a play or movie. From the 30's where the silver screen started to bring musicals to the public through the 60's the music of the stage was what America wanted to listen to, but rock and roll eventually knocked show tunes from Number 1 on the music charts. That said America has never really been able to escape enjoying a good musical. In recent years popular musicals such as Wicked, Rent, The Book of Mormon, has kept Broadway in our collective consciousness and their music on our iPods._

 _ **End Note**_ _\- Everyone knows at least one person who cannot sing on key to save their lives. At least New York realizes his inability to stay on key. I just wonder how many auditions it took for him to discover that._

 _ **Next Chapter**_ \- Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover- _In a crowd most people would never give Minnesota a second glance…unless the state was heading to a punk rock concert. Then they were someone who would detour around a block to avoid._


	3. Don't Judge A Book: Minnesota

_**Author's Note**_ _\- Hey everyone, happy Monday! I hope that this story brings you a few giggles, but first a huge thanks to Fictionalities and Mofalle for reviewing chapter 2. Thanks for putting up with New York's off key singing._

 _ **Disclaimer-**_ _I do not own Hetalia, and the fact that Minnesota listens to hardcore punk is totally the fault of a tech of mine who happens to listen to Twin Cities Hardcore._

 _ **Written to the tune of Lost, Blackout, Nightmare, Sprites, and Monster's Attack.**_

* * *

 **Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover**

* * *

Time ticked by. One second after one second. Each moment Minnesota was getting closer to the end of his shift in the state's legal archives. But as the minutes stretched on into eternity Minnesota had a hard time keeping himself from getting impatient, because tonight he was going to drag Wisconsin to a Brain Tumors concert and there was so much he had to do before she showed up at his apartment.

"Just go." Minnesota's superior finally said 5 minutes before 5 pm when it was clear that she wasn't going to get any more work out of him. The state didn't argue. He practically sprinted to his locker. Grabbed his things, he was driving out of the parking lot before the clock hit the hour.

Weaving and speeding through swell of rush hour traffic, Minnesota cranked up the sound of his punk until his tricked out subwoofers caused his car to shake and probably caused the people in a few of the neighbor cars to bounce in their seats with the chaotic rhythmus as well. A couple people gave him a double take as he drove by. No one expected someone who looked so clean cut and respectable to be driving so recklessly. Other people ignored his appearance and just glared at his behavior. A couple of citizens flipped the bird at him, but Minnesota was too focused on the music to notice.

Wheels screeching he parked in his normal parking space in his assigned parking space. Off when the engine and in went the earbuds. Minnesota had been lectured by his landlord about having the music turned up too high on several occasions and he was pretty sure that he would get kicked out of his complex if played his music full throttle in the house when any of the neighbors where home. But no one cared if his iPod was turned way up and his head phones were in.

Minnesota got out of his car nearly as fast as he had gotten in it. He slammed the door behind him, clicking the lock button on his key, as he ran up the stairs that lead to his apartment. It took a few moments of fiddling with the lock to get in his door then he was in his sanctuary. He glanced at the clock in the kitchen as he headed to the saw that he had an hour and half hour until Wisconsin was scheduled to arrive. That was going to be just enough time to get ready.

First step a shower. He needed to get the smell of the archives off of his skin. Then it was a handful of hair gel made his hair appear unkept and chaotic. He layered on the temporary tattoos and shimmed into his skin tight leather pants. Fierce looking gold contacts replaced his respectable glasses, and black nail polish covered his usually nude nails. A shirt that was more holes than fabric went on next, covered with a leather jacket covered with tarnished buckles. Minnesota was just about to put the finishing touch on when he heard a knock on the door. He quickly put his clip on nose ring into place, took one last look of himself in the mirror and headed to go meet his guest.

"Yes." Minnesota answered the door with a suitable glare for his date.

"You know Minnesota I will never get use to you answering the door like that right?" Wisconsin said with a roll of her eyes as she pushed her way inside his apartment.

Minnesota just shrugged. He knew that Wisconsin preferred his clean cut look, but Minnesota kind of wish he could ditch it. If he could get away with wearing it at work he would probably dress punk rock forever. And even if Wisconsin didn't like his fashion sense he knew that she secretly like the exact same type of music that he did. If the few times he had to pick up her car for her was any indication, she also liked it just as loud as he did too.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note-**_ _So I didn't know that Twin Cities Hardcore, also known as Minneapolis Hardcore was a thing until one of my field technicians introduced me to it, but after doing a bit of research I discovered that it actually has a fairly entrenched history. It began to be one of the cultural centers for the protopunk scene in the 60's and by the mid-70's it was recognized as one of the national centers for the punk movement. While many cities dabbled in the musical genera the Twin Cities area dived into a particular guttural and discordant type now known as Hardcore. While the music scene did see a decline in the late 80's when several major bands broke up, it was revived by new blood in the 90's. From everything I have been able to read things seem to be still going strong._

 _ **End Note-**_ _Well I am not a punk rocker, but do get kitted out in steampunk regalia every once in a while. From that perspective all I can say is Minnesota, more power to you. Though I kind of suspect he spent more time getting ready for this concert than Wisconsin did._

 _ **Next Chapter-**_ Extra, Extra- _Everyone knew that India was obsessed with Bollywood films, but no one realized the impact that she was having on the genera until they took a closer look at the background dancers of many of the music videos._


	4. Extra, Extra: India

_**Author's Note**_ _\- Good Morning! Today's story focuses on a country which really should get a lot more Hetalia love. It is the second most populous country in the world, and as part of the commonwealth played a major role during WWII. Today India is diverse country that is a force to recon with in the region. But before we get to the story, a quick shout out to Fictionalities for leaving a review for yesterday's chapter. As always, you rock as hard as Prussia._

 _ **Disclaimer**_ _\- I do not own Hetalia, and I don't speak Hindi but I do enjoy Bollywood films from time to time._

 _ **Written to the music videos of Chammak Challo Ra. One, Chikni Chameli, Saturday Saturday, and Tumbi Ho Bandhu.**_

* * *

 **Extra, Extra**

* * *

If India hadn't participated in the Bhangra flash mob that took place at the Vancouver train station, no one probable would have noticed her favorite hobby. But now that they various nations of the world had picked her out in one music video it was nearly impossible to stop picking her out in her swirling sari dancing in the background of all the others.

They spotted her wearing purple in one video, a very attractive pink number in another, black leather in a third. All the colors of the rainbow flashed across the screen as the nation moved her hips to the music in perfect rhythm with her fellow dancers. When a couple of nations went beyond just trying to find her on Bollywood music videos on YouTube and watched a couple of Bollywood films they discovered that their fellow nation in those two. Turns out India was one of the most ubiquitous extras in the industry. It was rare to find a Bollywood production where she wasn't somewhere dancing or singing in the background.

Even if you only watched a couple of films, you could see that even if the culture of India wasn't quite sure where women fit in the 21st century, it was clear that the country herself was incredibly comfortable in her sexuality. While at work she might seem as conservative as her neighbors when she was at work, when she was on stage India a woman who ready to rock the world.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note**_ _\- Bollywood adopted American style show tunes in movies as early as 1931 and started to market the music separate from the visual media as early as 1934. As show tunes began to decline in the western world, they only increased in popularity in India and South Asia. Now large Bollywood productions are a commonly exported community in the region and music has come full circle and is influencing Hollywood and Broadway musical styles. The new musical remix is often referred to as chutney music._

 _ **End Note-**_ _I love the thought of having a nation's personification sneaking into the background of their national pop culture scene. Especially when you often see the same dancers show up in film after film coming from a particular region._

 _ **Next Chapter-**_ The Song Of My Heart- _Sacred harp was a genera of music that didn't appeal to the masses, but that didn't bother Alabama, for the a cappella rhythm of this unique choral style spoke straight to the states soul._


	5. The Song of My Heart: Alabama

_**Author's Note-**_ _So I mixed up the format on today's post and interjected the words of the song in between segments of the story and I would love to hear feedback on whether or not you think it worked. Also huge thanks to ABC and Fictionalities for their reviews and suggestions. Sometimes auto correct is your worst enemy and yes I know that in cannon India is a guy but the country works so much better as a girl, so I wrote fem!India instead._

 _ **Disclaimer**_ _\- I still don't own Hetalia, nor do I happen to be able to carry a tune when in a group. Also the song I'm Going Home (which is italicized) is not of my own making. It was written Leonard P. Breedlove in 1850. This song in the common domain if you ever want to look up the sheet music._

 _ **Written to the tune of I'm Going Home, David's Lamentation, Hallelujah, and Soar Away.**_

* * *

 **The Song Of My Heart**

* * *

Sometimes it feels like the world is caving in on you.

 _La, la, la, la, la, sol, sol, fa, fa, la, la, sol, fa, la, la, fa, fa, sol, la, la, fa, sol, la_

That your everyday duties are trying to tear you to shreds.

 _La, la, la, la, la, sol, sol, fa, fa, la, la, sol, fa, la, la, fa, fa, sol, la, la, fa, sol, la_

It was on those types of days that Alabama would take a long lunch break and head to the little church two blocks from her office complex.

 _La, fa, la, la, la, sol, sol, fa, fa, la, la, sol, fa, la, la, fa, fa, sol, la, la, fa, sol, la_

She would settle herself in the pews, trebles on her left, basses on her right, and tenors in front of her.

 _La, fa, la, la, la, sol, sol, fa, fa, la, la, sol, fa, la, la, fa, fa, sol, la, la, fa, sol, la_

She would pull a well-worn hymnal from her purse and settled its well-loved pages in her lap.

 _Fare well vain world! I am going! My Savoir smiles and bids me come, And I don't care to stay here long!_

And when it was time Alabama would raise her voice and sing.

 _Sweet Angels beckon me away. To sing God's praise in endless days, And I don't care to stay here long!_

The voices she sang with would never win a singing contest.

 _Right up yonder, Christians, away up yonder. O' Yes my Lord, for I don't care to stay here long._

They were too harsh, to worn down by life's daily grind.

 _Right up yonder, Christians, away up yonder. O' Yes my Lord, for I don't care to stay here long._

But it didn't matter because together they made something beautiful.

 _I'm glad that I am born to die, from grief and woe my soul shall fly, And I don't care to stay here long!_

Music that was more than the sum of its parts.

 _Bright angels shall convey me home. Away to New Jerusalem, And I don't' care to stay here long!_

In a way it reminded Alabama about why she loved being a state.

 _Right up yonder, Christians, away up yonder. O' Yes my Lord, for I don't care to stay here long._

Because each of her siblings had something beautiful to offer the others.

 _Right up yonder, Christians, away up yonder. O' Yes my Lord, for I don't care to stay here long._

But the nation they created together was to her the most beautiful creation on the Lord's great earth.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note-**_ _One of the oldest branches of American traditional music, Sacred Harp can trace it roots to New England about to around the time of the revolutionary war. This a cappella form shape note music spread to across the North America continent during a time when musical instruments were expensive and unavailable in most frontier communities. It died out across most of the continent as the country became wealthier and most churches could afford organs or pianos to provide music, but in rural communities in the American South Sacred Harp music remained a staple. In recent years Sacred Harp has been experiencing a revival as a new generation of singers throughout the south have expressed interest in the sense of community they enjoy while singing this form of spiritual music._

 _ **End Note-**_ _A nation, like a choir is more than the sum of its parts._

 _ **Next Chapter-**_ Got To Feel That Beat- _Forget Hula what Hawaii really wanted to rock out to was Jawaiian._


	6. Got To Feel That Beat: Hawaii

_**Author's Note**_ _\- Hello, long time no post. Life has kind of gotten in the way of writing. So I will jump write into the story. Enjoy!_

 _ **Disclaimer-**_ _I do not own Hetalia, and I got most of the rant about hula from a relative who is Hawaiian and practices traditional hula._

 _ **Written to the tune of Simple Love Song, Jawaiian Life, and Higher Than The Clouds, Somewhere Over The Rainbow.**_

* * *

 **Got To Feel that Beat**

* * *

On paper Hawaii was youngest of the states, which has kind of made him chuckle because biologically he was clearly the oldest. He had after all, been a nation for centuries before the US had taken him over in a coup that was conveniently not talked about. Most of his former allies had come to grips with the fact that he wasn't going to return to the international stage, and over 50 years since he became a state most of his citizens were comfortable with their identity as a US state…unfortunately at some moments the personification of Hawaii wasn't.

One of the things that really got under his normally cool skin, was when people disrespected the hula. He knew that the meaning of music changed over time, but hula historically was used as a method of faith and devotion. Parading such important piece of history for tourists felt kind of shameful.

On the other hand, singing rhythmically strumming his ukulele on the beach felt like second nature. I didn't matter that the uke had been imported by the Portuguese and that reggae had been invented by the Jamaicans, Jawaiian music incorporated the best of the outside world with the laid back nature of the islands.

Occasionally, some of his mainland siblings would scoff at his musical tastes. They would tell Hawaii that reggae was the music of rebellion, or that his music wasn't true reggae because the lyrics were often a combination of English, pigeon, and Hawaiian. When this happened the state would make sure to sit out on the wide balcony and meditate on how he was going to manage to convince Canada to send his special browns to the mainland states, cause sometimes they really just needed to chill.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note-**_ _Jawaiian is the term for Hawaiian reggae music. It with strong vocals and often using ukulele this music tends to be softer than many other forms of the genera. It dates back to the early 80's when reggae was mixed with local musical styles. By the end of the decade, Jawaiian was officially considered to be the dominate form of unique musical expression on the islands. A distinction that Jawaiian keeps today._

 _ **End Note-**_ _If you are enjoying the story so far, I would love to hear it. If you noticed anything I need to fix, let me know. If you just want me to write more of these story, shoot me a review or a PM. I will continue writing regardless, but I will be more likely to produce something you will look forward to reading if you let me know what you enjoy reading. Thanks in advance._

 _ **Next Chapter**_ \- In A Dark and Smokey Room- _At first France was worried that jazz was too American, but then he realized that English was too harsh a language to truly let the genera blossom. Then there was no way to keep him away from the club._


	7. In A Dark and Smoky Room: France

_**Author's Note**_ _\- This piece was pretty much done months ago. Then world events (the Paris attacks) and life chaos (mountains of end of the year paperwork) forced it on the back burner. Now that we are well into the New Year I do believe that it is time for this story to see the light of day…or perhaps it would be better to say the sparkle of starlight. But before we get to that a quick shout out to MusicJewel for reviewing the last chapter. Thanks for your support._

 _ **Disclaimer**_ _\- I do not own Hetalia, nor do I have a seductive crooning voice like France._

 _ **Written to the tune of Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien, Un Homme Et Une Femme, and Que Reste T II De Nos Amours**_

* * *

 **In A Dark and Smoky Room**

* * *

It was a chilly winter's night. The wind off the Seine cut through France's long coat, and chased away the white puffs of breath that formed with every exhale. The dip in temperature seemed to have encouraged even the hardiest Parisian to find an indoor spot to pass the darkened hours. As the nation blew in his hands to try to thaw his frozen fingers, he mused that he probably should join his citizens.

He allowed his eyes to search familiar buildings until they rested on a sign that was an old friend. A little bar that had always catered more to the locals than the tourists, and had thus managed to survive everything from wars to fads, riots to economic storms. While France didn't have the luxury of frequenting a place like this for long, an skilled bar keeper at such an establishment would eventually notice that France happened to be immortal, it wouldn't stop him from occasionally coming back for a visit. Tonight was a perfect evening to do so.

France pushed through the heavy wooden door into a dark room and let moment stop. He closed he eyes and let the music transport him to a time not so long ago, when places such as this where the heart of the resistance. He savored that moment of timelessness, he breathed deeply the smoke, and let rhythm of the jazz resonate inside him. He stood still as long as he could get away with before making his way to the bar and taking a seat.

He ordered cognac and Gauloises which the bars keep lit. France inhaled and exhaled a billow of smoke before turning his attention to the entertainment. In was a three piece little group. A shaggy man on a base, a tight lipped on at the piano, and a shift of a woman that France could almost imagine was his little Sparrow if he squinted right. The jazz artists played another round, and France ordered another cognac and settled in to enjoy the moment.

Did he miss the days of yester year? It depended, still France had no regrets. He had taken both the good and the bad. Now he lived by the concept of Non, je ne regretted rien.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note**_ _\- When jazz first came to France in the 1920s it was considered to be too American, too foreign to be proper. What the first naysayers could never had known was that jazz was a music type that lend itself to the bar and night culture developing in French cities. By the 1930s jazz had been incorporated into the culture. When WWII swept the continent, French jazz had fully schemed from its American forbearer and was officially considered its own musical genre._

 _ **End Note**_ _-Can't you totally see France relaxing a smoky bar in the back streets of Paris?_

 _ **Next Chapter**_ \- Two Steps- _California had a whole bunch of different types of music he could have chosen for his favorite. There was surfer rock and cowpunk, west coast hip hop and glam metal, but when whatever project he was working on hit the fan, there was one type of music that he always relied on to get him through the rough spots, Epic._


	8. Two Steps: California

_**Author's Note**_ _\- Good morning or afternoon or night depending on which time zone you happen to be in. Another week another story. I hope that you enjoy it._

 _ **Disclaimer-**_ _I do not own Hetalia, but I do chronically listen to Epic music while working. I am pretty sure I managed to get the entire office hooked on it too._

 **Written to the tune of El Dorado, Winterspell, Heart of Courage, and Battleborn by Two Steps.**

* * *

 **Two Steps**

* * *

The other states made assumptions about California. They assumed he was shallow because of his accent and favorite hobbies. They assumed that he couldn't have refined tastes in anything but wine, and when it came to wine that he was a snob. As to music most of his siblings couldn't understand why he was still listening to the Beach Boys and rocking out to Glam Metal, and don't even get him started on what some thought about cowpunk.

When his siblings started needling him about his tastes in stuff California tried to remind them, that his GDP was basically neck and neck with Brazil's, and larger than ever country except for the China, Japan, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, and of course the US. If California wanted to be eccentric then he had a right to do so.

What the rest of the United States didn't realize was that California had a secret to at least his personal productivity at work. The source of his success, Epic music, and not epic as in that was epic, Epic as in the genre which figured how awesome having an electric guitar backed up by a full orchestra and 100 person choir was.

When California was in the movie theater, a well composed and place Epic track could reduce him to tears. At work, it motivated to push the limits of coding capability. Sitting at his computer with his professional grade headset, he would settle at the computer and press play.

At first the effect of the music was small. California would gain a snippet of inspiration from a phrase of Latin, or the brass section might encourage him to push a little harder. Then he would feel the acceleration of the base rhythm actually speed up his heart a little bit, as his fingers flew across the computer keyboard. He could code like this for hours. He and his computer cocooned in a little world by his music, without another care in the world.

Then, when his work was done, California would slowly detangle himself from his music and his code. He would emerge from his office both exhausted from the work, but exhilarated by the experience of focusing and doing one thing really, really well. By all work and no play did a boring state make. It was time to switch up the sound track and do something fun. Perhaps he would listen to cowpunk and care for the garden. Maybe he would put on his favorite Glam Metal CD and cruise the town looking for chicks and good eats. Or maybe he would throw on the Beach Boys, get changed into a wet suit, and go hit some waves. He took a look at the surf forecasted and decided today his board was going to get some use.

* * *

 _ **Historical Note**_ _\- From what I have been able to determine, Epic is a genera which first started showing up in the 70's but has been going through a major resurgence today. Epic Music is defined as instrumentally complex, often with choir vocals. The genera was created to support the film, TV, and gaming industries by creating scores that would interject strong emotion. Globus, Two Steps From Hell, City of the Fallen, and Hans Zimmer are all examples of Epic Music groups._

 _ **End Note**_ _\- Never given epic music a try? Look it up. I bet it was the sound track to a lot of the movies/trailers/games/etc you like and you have actually been listening to and loving it for years._

 _ **Next Chapter-**_ Listening to the Sound of Silence- _Virginia discovered long ago, sometime the most beautiful sound of all is the sound of nothing._


End file.
